


The Best That I Got

by Arukou



Series: Tumblr Archive [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Round 10, Tumblr: 890fifth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arukou/pseuds/Arukou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone keeps leaving presents around the penthouse for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best That I Got

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/post/112309789956/the-best-that-i-got) for 890fifth.

It starts out small, though never cheap. Steve doesn’t think Tony actually knows how to be thrifty.

“What’s this?”

Sam looks up from the paper and raises an eyebrow. “Uh…it’s not yours? I thought it was yours.”

“No. Maybe it’s Natasha’s? Or Buck’s? Who else has been in the kitchen?”

“Tony was in here getting coffee earlier.”

“But he has a whole penthouse. Why would he come down here?”

Before Sam can answer, the slim black machine vibrates and chimes in Steve’s hand, and he’s so startled he almost drops it. The screen lights vibrant blue and white and a message scrolls across. _New prototype phone. Would appreciate it if you’d test it for me, Spangles. ps. Dinner tonight. You and me. Pizza. Sound good?  
_

Sam frowns a little when Steve shows him the message. “That doesn’t look like a market-value phone to me. That looks like like a custom Stark number.”

Steve shrugs and studies the message again. He doesn’t mind helping Stark out with a little testing, but the dinner request is kind of throwing him for a loop. Sam studies him for a moment before saying, “For the love of god, put Stark out of his misery and go on the date. If you don’t have a good time, you don’t have a good time. Easy as that.”

* * *

He’s coming back from their movie night cum makeout session when he notices it sitting on the mantle. Bucky is on the sofa directly in front of it, staring as though he could set it on fire with just his gaze.

“Is that…?”

“I think it’s real.”

“No way. Dazzy? Our Dazzy?” The jersey is framed under glass, a little moth-eaten and dirty, but still recognizable for what it is. Steve can see a black scribble across the shoulder that must be a signature.

Bucky huffs and snorts and then stands. “There’s a ball, too.”

Steve steps up so he’s standing next to Bucky and then he sees the ball, propped up on a tiny silver tripod and encased in glass. “Sonovabitch,” he breathes, looking at the clear black lines of a marker on the surface.

“You remember,” Bucky says after a moment,“the summer we hopped the fence to see him pitch?”

“Yeah. Yeah I remember. Security chased us through the stands, and I about broke my neck fallin’ down the stairs.”

Bucky hums and says, “Yeah. Good times.” He almost sounds like he means it.

“Where’d it come from?”

“Hell if I know,” says Bucky, but then he turns. “Let’s watch a game. It won’t be…it won’t be our Dodgers, but it’ll be something.

* * *

Steve wakes to an empty bed, but he’s not terribly surprised. Tony had mentioned an early morning flight to Dubai for an investors retreat and based on the sunlight streaming in through the penthouse windows, it’s already well past nine.

He stretches languorously across the bed and enjoys the coolness of the sheets and the scent of Tony’s shampoo on the pillow. He’s just considering rising for a shower when JARVIS chimes up.

"Good morning, Captain Rogers. If you’d be so kind as to move out to the terrace, I believe you’ll find the accommodations most to your liking.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, but rises naked from the bed. It’s not like there’s anyone up here to see him, and there’s something sweetly intimate about being bare in Tony’s room, even when he’s not there. The terrace door opens and the wind hits him hard. Eighty-three stories up, it’s chilly even in the warmth of summer. But he steps onto the cement and nearly falls into the steaming pool at his feet.

“Japanese-style hot springs for your bathing pleasure, Captain. If you’d step to the basin, I would be happy to explain proper bathing etiquette for these facilities. Typically one first showers and rinses before entering the water.”

He can feel a little shock through his spine because this can’t be normal, even for someone as rich as Tony Stark. Does the 1% really keep high-rise terraces with hot-spring style bathing? Should he be questioning Tony’s sanity?

“Has this always been here?” he asks after a moment, delaying what’s sure to be the freezing experience of rinsing himself off in the cutting wind.

JARVIS’ pause is miniscule, but it’s still there. “Sir has recently garnered in interest in Japanese aesthetic practices. He thought you might appreciate the cultural experience.”

Steve frowns at the pool again. JARVIS is deflecting, but the longer he stands in the wind, the colder he gets, so he waves it off. Instead he turns to the basin and shower setup, complete with a little stool and all the soaps he could possibly need. “I shower first, you say?” he asks as he crouches down in front of the shower-head.

* * *

He’s zipping up his leather jacket to head out for their six-month anniversary date, so he doesn’t notice right away, but when he finally looks up, he stops dead in his tracks. For a moment, he can’t say anything at all. Then he manages to squeak it out. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Where’s my bike?”

JARVIS hesitates, and in any human, Steve would call the silence awkward. The AI, however, is incapable of instilling awkwardness into a situation. Normally that all comes from his creator.

“It’s parked in your spot, Captain.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, JARVIS.”

“The 750 has been temporarily absconded for repairs, Captain. In its place, sir asks you use this model.”

Steve pinches his nose and resists the urge to rub his temples. The headache is psychosomatic, so it wouldn’t help anyway. “What is it, JARVIS?”

“A 1959 Harley-Davidson FLH Panhead, custom refitted engine, braking system, acceleration system and custom paint job.”

“I can see that,” Steve grits, staring at the red-white-and-blue flag motif on the gas tank. He rolls his shoulders back and cracks his neck, sighing. “Keys?” he says finally.

“The bike is custom-fitted with fingerprint and voice recognition, Captain. No keys required.”

“JARVIS, tell Tony we’re talking about this when I get to the restaurant.”

“Of course, Captain.”

* * *

“Tony,” he says, trying to get a word in edgewise. Tony, however, is proving to be a master of distraction, crawling into Steve’s lap so he can deepen the kiss even further. “Tony,” he says again, a little more forcefully. He puts his hands on Tony’s shoulders and pushes back to make his point. After a moment the billionaire pulls away, a disconcerted frown on his face.

“Too much?” he asks, plucking at the buttons of Steve’s open fly.

“I had something I wanted to talk with you about, remember?”

“Uh, the new specs on the body armor?”

“Tony.”

Tony sits further back, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching a little. “Your brakes were shot. That’s all.”

“I’ve noticed all the…the gifts, Tony.”

“They’re not gifts. They’re serendipities. You know. Happy accidents. I just happened to have this stuff, and I thought you might like it.”

“You just happened to have a $400,000 custom motorcycle done up in my colors?” Steve deadpans.

“Well, I…yes. Yes, I did.”

“Tony, you don’t…you don’t need to give me these things. I’m not wanting for anything at the moment. I don’t need your stuff.”

There’s something fragile and defensive in Tony’s face as he cautiously asks, “Are you…are you breaking up with me?”

“Am I…what?! Did you not…We were about to…How can you think that?”

“If what I’m offering isn’t good enough, I can…”

“Tony, what you’re offering is too much. I can’t…I don’t need all these lavish gifts.”

“But why would you…”

“I’m not some sort of prostitute, Tony! I’m not with you just because you give me things.”

Tony looks stricken at Steve’s outburst, and he leans so far back that he tumbles to the floor, arms and legs akimbo.

“Jesus, Tony. Are you ok?”

“I’m not…I would never…I don’t think of you like that,” Tony is stammering, pushing himself away. “Oh fuck. Is that what it seemed like? I didn’t…I just…I…”

“Tony,” Steve says, trying to calm himself, crouching down so he doesn’t loom over the smaller man, “Tony, just relax for a second.”

The billionaire freezes, but then he nods, following the expansion and contraction of Steve’s chest, eyes wary and calculating. After a minute of silence, he smooths his hand through his hair and stands abruptly. “I’m sorry I fucked up our anniversary. You know I suck at all this emotional crap. I shouldn’t have”

“You didn’t fuck anything up, Tony, and you don’t suck at the emotional crap. You suck at the 'asking others how they’re feeling' crap. I knew that about you when I started dating you.” 

“Then clearly this conversation is already over.”

“It’s clearly not, but first I need a hug. Think you can do that for me instead of the motorcycle?” Steve opens his arms wide and after another moment of hard staring Tony steps in, pressing hard to Steve’s chest. They both know it wasn’t Steve who needed the hug.

“I just…I don’t know what to do for you. The things that could make you happy, your…your friends, your family. I can’t get those for you. I don’t know what to do to make you stay. And damnit, Steve, I really do want you to stay.”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m here with you because I like you, Tony. I may even love you. What was that song? The Beatles one? Money can’t buy me love. You…you didn’t get me because you bought me things. I’m here because I think you’re a good man, a man who makes me laugh and makes me happy, even if you also occasionally make me crazy.”

“That’s not enough,” Tony whispers fiercely. “You deserve so much more.”

“No. I get to decide what I deserve. What if I tried to buy you a…a…a new JARVIS? Would you want that?”

“There is no new JARVIS. Nothing like that exists.”

“Ok. Poor example. But you’re missing the point. You’re not with me because I give you things, are you?”

“But you do. You give me so much. You’ve given me, you know, a family. Friends. A team. A purpose.”

“Exactly!” says Steve, lightly shaking Tony by his shoulders. “And that’s what you’ve given me in return. So stop trying to give me more. I’ve got everything I want already right here.”

They stand clutching each other for a long moment before Tony guffaws into Steve’s shoulder. “I really am a master at fucking up.”

“And that’s all I want. The master of all fuck ups. He’s the one who makes me happy.” Steve promptly replies, squeezing Tony a little closer.

The billionaire is silent for a moment, but then he drops his hand lower so it’s sitting on the curve of Steve’s ass. “All you want?” he says suggestively, pressing his hips into the cradle of Steve’s pelvis.

“Well,” says the super soldier after a moment, “almost all.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more fanfiction and nerdery find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/).


End file.
